What what

So my mom wrote me a poem. I didn't even know she could do that.

A poem for Becca:

The Hen

Under my feathers

I hid an egg

Lovely creamy secret

Warm with the becoming

So satisfying and mine

but Oh!

It changed--

I fluffed

and kept it hid

There.

Oh! While I was dozing

Something Bright

Grew

And pecked

And there it is

With shining eyes

And impertinent beak

Here's a random, blurry picture of me and a chicken.